


You Don't Mean for it To Happen

by youngmoneymilla



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, F/M, Love Triangles, Multi, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Soulmates, The Great Tumblr Exodus, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-05
Updated: 2018-12-05
Packaged: 2019-09-07 16:49:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16857679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/youngmoneymilla/pseuds/youngmoneymilla
Summary: You’ve fought with Steve as an Avenger for years and you’re in love with his best friend. What happens when the universe decides to throw you a curve ball?





	You Don't Mean for it To Happen

You don’t mean for it to happen.

You had always assumed that if a person was your soul mate, you’re made aware upon immediately meeting them. That was the general consensus, after all.

But, the universe, in an effort to make your life as dramatic and soul shattering as possible, decided to throw you a curveball.

_It’s Steve._

Your soulmate is a man you’ve been comrades with for nearly eight years. The man you’ve fought side by side with, nearly died with, have gone through hell and back with is apparently  _your person_.

And the cherry on top of this cosmic shit storm is that you’re deeply in love with his best friend.

Not even a year into your relationship with Bucky does the unthinkable happen.

You’re on a recon mission with Steve. The simplicity of the job meant that only two of you would have to. You and Steve had always worked best together in terms of skill and strength so, it was a no brainer.

There’s a hidden bomb. A wire is triggered and Steve rolls you both across the floor so that you miss the brunt of the explosion. You stare up at him, eyes wide, and adrenaline pumping white hot through your veins. You’re about to laugh off the near-death experience before you realize he’s staring at you with such intensity that you want to shrink back.

The scene is almost comical. His body is flush against yours. Small fires are raging around you like bouquets of flame and ash is spilling from the ceiling like rain. His lips are parted, a cut on his cheek weeps blood. You reach up to wipe at it but, only manage to smear it up his cheek.

“Y/N..,” he says gingerly, brushing a lock of your hair from your soot coated forehead. His gaze is alarmingly dazed, as if he’s seeing you for the first time.

You think maybe he’s hit his head but, the horrifying fact is that you feel it too. You  _know_ exactly what this is.

Everything is too much. Your senses go a mile a minute.  A cut on the back of your head stings, he’s deliciously heavy on top of you and you want to grab him by his shoulders to pull him down for a kiss.

“We need to go, Steve,” you mutter, before quickly pushing him off and racing back to the jet.

On the way back to the compound, you don’t say another word to Steve, who looks gravely pale and lost.

You spend the entire trip thinking of how much you love Bucky. You shut your eyes tightly and create images of him on a continuous loop, whispering his name like a fervent prayer.  

You curse the cosmos. You curse it for being eight years too late.

* * *

 

Back at the compound, you avoid Steve at all costs and you pull Bucky into your bed every chance you get.

He becomes highly amused at your insatiable appetite. Not suspicious in the slightest. You’ll pull him into a bathroom, a storage closet, even the sauna.

You wrap your arms around his neck and breathe, “I want you. I want only you. I need you,” against the vein that pulses there.

He doesn’t seem to understand that you’re desperately trying to make it true.

You isolate yourself in your room most nights. Your heart breaks, stutters, moans against your chest as you relive seeing Steve’s face and then Buck’s again and again. The cruelness of it, the fate of it is creating a web of your insides.

The moments that you do see Steve leave you breathless. One day, you catch him walking down the hall and you feel a tug so violent you stumble. He’s caught your arm before you can even steady yourself and you fling it back with a cry.

“We need to talk, Y/N.”

“I, um, I have to go meet Tony,” you sputter before racing down the hallway, leaving him calling after you. The skin of your arm feels scorched from his touch.

You manage to get to your room before the sob threatening to break you open tumbles out. You’re collapsing in on yourself. Barely holding it together. Desperately trying to push away one man and cling to another. You love them both but, Steve’s essence, his very being, is attracting you more intensely every day.

You’re consumed, possessed, a falling star on a one-track speedway ready to crash and explode with him.

The worst part is, is that you want to.

Bucky seems to hold it together after you finally tell him that you and Steve are interconnected. Sure, he’s angry, hurt, and horrified but, you’re a perfect actress. You hide how significant this kind of connection is with a blinding smile and cooing words that placate him.

You don’t go into details, not the intricacy of fate or souls aligned or cosmic love. What’s the point? You love Bucky and Steve loves Bucky so, even a biological desire for each other can’t fuck it up. You’re so wrong.

* * *

 

_You don’t mean for it to happen._

You swear to yourself you don’t. But, it starts when you’ve had one too many martinis at Tony’s charity gala and Steve demands that he walk you to your room because Bucky is out on a mission. The sweet burn of alcohol rolls around your stomach and your skin feels flushed and heavy. Your tongue sits swollen in your mouth from vodka. The stitching of your dress bites into your torso and you’d have ripped it off already if it weren’t so beautiful. It’s the palest of blues, the very reflection of snowfall and glistening water. You bunch your hands into the skirts and twirl along the hallway as Steve walks beside you.

“Looks like you’re having fun,” he grins, shoving his hands in to the pockets of his dress pants. You giggle before noticing that you’re finally at your room. The thought of him leaving fills you with dread so, you attempt to keep the conversation going.

“Isn’t this dress gorgeous?” You stop and spin around again to show him.

“So gorgeous,” he replies as he reaches out to brush strands of hair from your forehead that have fallen out of your bun. The act reminds you of that fated day: the explosion, the heaviness of his body on yours. Your chest aches.

“You alright?” Steve asks softly. His fingers linger on your bare shoulder as you press into your bedroom door.

The cool metal of its frame tempers your hot skin and you think of Bucky. Steve fingers squeeze your shoulder a little harder and you glance up at him. Your mouth goes dry. The desire, the need. It’s rushing through him, too.

_Soul mates aren’t something that can be taken lightly._

“Mmhm,” you hum. “Totally fine.”

But, you’re not. You open your eyes and stare hard at Steve. Your heart is fit to burst when he stares back just as intensely, pupils dilated and dark as the depth of the sea.  _Fuck._

He lunges forward, hands wrapping around the back of your neck, strong fingers digging into your scalp. His lips move against yours, tongue dipping into your mouth as you suck it back. He moans as you pull him against you, your palms gliding across his chest to rise up and cup his jaw. It’s a rough and messy make out, something quick and dirty in the empty cavern of the compound hallway.

Yet, it feels holy all at the same time. He is whispering your name repeatedly against your cheek, the curve of your ear and your lips. He makes it sound like a hymn. Your mouth trails wet kisses along his throat and it leaves you feeling full, sated.  _This is right where I’m meant to be_.

It hits you hard like a freight train.  _You love him._

You shove him backwards with such force that he leaves a dent in the wall behind him. Steve’s eyes are lust-blown wide, lips kiss-bruised, and cheeks flushed guava-pink. He looks so startlingly beautiful to you that you long to reach for him again.

“We can’t do this,” you whisper shakily, running a hand through your hair.

Steve is silent as he places his face in his hands, rubbing vigorously as if it can erase the fog of their kiss.

“I know,” he finally replies. “But, I want you.”

_As if it were so simple._

He takes a few halting steps forward and you fall back against your door as if you could burrow there. He pauses.

“It doesn’t matter, Steve,” you say stiffly. “I love, Bucky.”

“And me?”

“What about you?”

“I know you feel this,” he says fiercely.

“It doesn’t matter, Steven,” you hiss again, crossing your arms tightly across your chest.

“Don’t you dare say it doesn’t matter,” he growls. He’s right in front of you now, his brow dark and hell bent. “I can’t fucking sleep! I think about you every second of every god damn day.”

“I can’t do this to Bucky!”

“I can’t do it either but, I also can’t live like this!”

You feel tears pricking at the back of your eyes and your arms wrap around your stomach as if you could hold your insides together.

“I wish that I hated you,” you mutter.

“You don’t know how much I want to hate you.” Steve rolls his head to the side so it nearly rests on his shoulder. He stares back at you with narrowed eyes. “I wish that I wished I hated you.”

There’s a caustic air that leaves his words biting.

You flinch and reach back to open your door. The conversation has far surpassed dangerous territory and heading into catastrophe.

His arm slams the door back so, that you can’t close it.

“And maybe I do,” he says slowly.

“Maybe you do what?” You reply meekly. You need him gone.

He tugs you to him roughly. You practically fall against him, legs giving out.

“Maybe I do hate you,” he whispers against your lips, his eyes wandering your face. “Because how far away are love and hate, after all? Feels like we’re doing both.”

Something within you shudders and you rip yourself away from him. You slam the door so hard it nearly breaks.

As you slide down to the floor, you think of how entirely fucked you are.


End file.
